Tomorrow promises a different view.
Tomorrow threatens schism from you.
Aching with use;
Too young to be
Struck with abuse.
Aged by the eyes
Crinkled in breaking,
Shaken by tears,
Sorrows ripe for the taking.
Take those hands,
[Yes, yours that are shaking],
And just give them here,
Holden safe from all breaking.
I know I can’t fix you
And that nothing is well;
But open your hands
And reach out of your hell.
Today is the day before room rearranges.
Will you sing next to me, twisting our voices?
Will you care when I’m sick, and bring soups and teas?
Will you listen even when I’m insane in my choices?
Will you put up with voices I hear in my head?
Will you let me be quiet, and crabby, and mean?
Will you let me curl up beside you in bed?
Will you cradle me when demons will scream?
Will you affirm, encourage, and love to no end?
Will you discuss theology and books that we love?
Will you carry a passion for words and for friends?
Will you never grow tired of laughter and hugs?
Will you walk in the rain while holding my hand?
Will you remind me you’re there with a small touch?
Will you follow your calling, whether humble or grand?